


Borderline

by Geneviéve Bartok (BlackRoseHunter)



Category: The Monster Series - David Wellington
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRoseHunter/pseuds/Genevi%C3%A9ve%20Bartok
Summary: And it was wrong, so wrong, he tasted blood and gore, cold skin stung his fingers and his lips and he wanted to vomit, but he couldn’t move.Instead, he kissed back.





	Borderline

**Author's Note:**

> Okay.
> 
> So.
> 
> I just got this book recently and haven’t even finished it yet, but I just fell in love with both Gary and the thought of what I am nicknaming (for now) Dekary. And so, instead of being so original like I am with all of my other works (do note the sarcasm, please) I decided to rewrite the whole incident between chapters twenty and twenty-one to fit my liking.
> 
> I’m a geek. So what?
> 
> I toyed with undead physics in this one a bit. I don’t know exactly how the transfer and infection of humans by the undead go, so I kind of threw everything I knew out the window and considered this a test run for some effed-up AU or something like that. Whatever.
> 
> Anyway, I’ve rambled on enough to fuel a whole score of the undead, so I’m going to leave you in peace and get on with my work.
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> **WARNING**
> 
> Contains references to canonical spoilers, blood/gore, death, pseudo-“beastialitality”, et cetera. 

**_**** _ **

* * *

**_**“ I switched on the dome light and saw my hands were covered in blood. “Hell, girl, that’s nothing,” I drawled. “Just a little fluid. I-” ”** _ **

 

One explanation Dekalb had for himself was that he was not at fault for realizing what was happening because there was no light in the bathroom - despite the pristine plumbing - and therefore could not see himself in the mirror to realize what was on his face. In fact, he even wiped it off with a wad of tissue, figuring it was a bit of sweat from lying awkwardly on the ground or some drink that had been spilled. Something other than what it actually was.

There was a tiny bit of light, though just a thin sliver of diluted moonlight as it was, that barely shed enough clarity to allow someone to navigate the room. That being said, there wasn’t enough light to originally allow him to make out what the hell was all over Gary’s chin.

He didn’t think much of it at first, but when Gary insisted - practically begged at that - that he didn’t turn his flashlight on just yet, he had to question why. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen someone without clothing on before if that was the issue. He had also seen his fair share of the undead (unliving, he corrected with an almost audible sigh), so seeing one in the dark shouldn’t be enough for Gary to say anything. He began to expect the worse. And sadly, the worst was correct.

The flashlight was knocked from his hand before he could even begin to comprehend the possible danger Gary could inflict upon him. However much use he may be, he was still one of __them__ , and he knew what kind of insatiable hunger they so often succumbed to. For being unable to fully run, Gary could move quickly if he wanted to.

As soon as Dekalb had dropped the flashlight on the ground, the stench of rotting flesh and salami wafted over him, air upturned from the sudden movement. In all honesty, he was surprised that someone didn’t wake up and point a gun at the two of them. But, alas, no such thing happened. Dekalb didn’t know what he would have thought of that notion, either. Sure, keeping the undead at a distance was a good idea, and having one hold your hand wasn’t the most pleasant thing to experience. That being said, having a gun pointed in his general direction in the middle of the night and therefore the dark wasn’t too pleasant an idea, either. He was stuck with one option: comply.

And he did. He pressed his lips together firmly and held his tongue, biting into his cheek to keep himself from cursing or jumping away. A negation died on Gary’s tongue as he pleaded, seeing Dekalb’s face sour. He didn’t move, though. Didn’t let go of Dekalb’s hand, either. Then there was that little hint of a scent, just the faintest idea that Dekalb almost expected he imagined; something alive, under all that decay and death, something charged with energy and bleeding, something pure and raw that he couldn’t put a name to. But, yes. It was indeed there.

To say the least, Dekalb was a tad uncomfortable. Holding hands with a dead guy - albeit the smartest dead guy on Earth - was a bit unsettling when it came down to it. And when Gary stared at him with those deep brown eyes that were beginning to stop looking so bloodshot, he almost shivered. And they just stood there. Awkwardly connected at the hands and staring at each other.

Gary moved first, though only slightly. Brought his face the tiniest bit closer to Dekalb’s, though enough that both could sense it. They stood there, silent again, now sharing air. Well, Dekalb breathing the air, Gary just hovering in it. Dekalb had noticed that quickly; the guy didn’t breathe. Well, he didn’t sleep, either, case in point. He shouldn’t have been so surprised by that. And it was Gary again who moved this time, suddenly pouncing and Dekalb had to use every ounce of willpower not to shriek when he was ripped limb-from-limb and eaten alive and-

No. No, that was a hand, and then-

Shit.

Dekalb froze up when a pair of cold lips pressed into his own, eyes bulging and muscles tightening. Adrenaline pumped up from his kidneys and throughout his veins, preparing him to jump, run, and never look back until he collapsed. He was suddenly very aware of what liquid on the side of his head had been and knew exactly what - or who, he should say - the lump off to the side was.

And it was wrong, so wrong, he tasted blood and gore, cold skin stung his fingers and his lips and he wanted to vomit, but he couldn’t move.

Instead, he kissed back.

Thinking back on it, that moment when he surrendered every last bit of humanity he had left was the greatest and worst of his life. He had just gotten over this once with losing his wife to the stupid epidemic, and on top of kissing someone else, it was a man. And he could not stress enough at that moment that he was straight and loved women and everything about them and only them. Not men. He befriended men. He did not kiss men. He did not fall in love with men. But, he couldn’t help but think, he thought he did more-or-less love Gary at that moment.

At that moment Dekalb was very content with kissing Gary, if not a bit disgusted with himself and Gary because he technically wasn’t alive. But it, well, it was okay. It was alright. Gary’s lips were chapped and cold, just like the rest of his body, including the hand that still had a gentle grip on Dekalb’s own. Dekalb couldn’t find it in himself to care as he snaked a hand over to rest on the waistband of Gary’s pants, pulling him the slightest bit closer so he wouldn’t have to lean so far. And they kissed - not heated, not passionate, just… The only term Dekalb could think of was lovingly. As if a thousand unspoken words that never could be spoken were, telling stories and passing on knowledge and expressing all of the things words couldn’t.

It was Dekalb that was forced to pull away first out of sheer lack of oxygen, something Gary would never have had to do. His eyes fluttered open to peer down at Gary, who simply averted his gaze and avoided making contact. For his previous act of bravery, he suddenly seemed quite shy. Despite all of this, Dekalb especially wanted to vomit now with the overpowering taste of metal and rot covering his lips.

Just as they were untangling themselves and stepping away in a haste, the flashlight on the ground suddenly was kicked, knocking into a shelf and echoing noisily next to someone’s head. Said person shot up, gun loading and pointing straight at the two of them. Dekalb cursed under his breath and scrubbed at his face with his shirt sleeve, trying to wipe the blood from his lips. Ayaan’s flashlight lit both of them up.

And so it was.

And shall it be - curse Ayaan, Dekalb thought.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Art Credit: https://www.quotev.com/flybyfeather 
> 
> Shop Credit: https://www.quotev.com/groups/242818/topic/4157543?page=1 


End file.
